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American horror story: 'I hardly recognize my country anymore’

The idealism learned in his Chicago classrooms of the 1950s and ’60s is being severely tested in Trump’s America. “I am shocked at how fragile our democracy is and how easily it can be subverted with a tweet.”

Activists with Confederate flags say the Pledge of Allegiance at the Gettysburg National Military Park on July 1 in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. The U.S. Park Service issued protest permits for three groups, including Sons of Confederate Veterans, and Real 3% Risen, on the 154th anniversary of the battle. (Mark Makela / GETTY IMAGES)

First and second grade students at Huntington Woods Elementary School in Wyoming, Mich., recite the Pledge of Allegiance in 2002. American writer Stephen J. Lyons remembers such moments as a student: "I was learning the ideals of American democracy that I would carry with me into my adult life." Those ideals are under attack now. (CHRIS CLARK / AP)

By Stephen J. Lyons

Sun., Aug. 13, 2017

I remember those early mornings when I faced the flag, placed my hand over my heart, and pledged allegiance to the flag with my classmates at Bret Harte Elementary School on Chicago’s Southside.

During those moments — and for every morning that followed in my 12-year, rather unspectacular public school career — I was learning the ideals of American democracy that I would carry with me into my adult life.

America was presented as a “sweet land of liberty,” my teachers emphasized — a refuge for those seeking freedom from repressive regimes. Our doors and our hearts were always open. The Statue of Liberty stood as safe harbour for our grandparent, our parents and even some of us in those Chicago classrooms.

My America, a melting pot of a nation founded by immigrants served as an example to the world. We cared more than other countries about the suffering of others and our best characteristic was our infinite acts of charity in around the world.

As I grew older I learned that we were not perhaps as great as I thought, and that our international forays were sometimes more about protecting our interests and expanding our gains than saving souls from oppression.

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There were other events that chipped away at my national pride. But Bull Connor’s lynch mobs, attack dogs and fire hoses during the civil rights movement of the 1950s and 1960s were an exception to our exceptionalism. We knew as a nation that this was not the way Americans behaved toward each other.

The Kent State shooting during the Vietnam protests was also an outlier, part of our violent, baser, perhaps mammalian, instincts that we failed to keep in check.

I truly believed that despite those horrid examples we would always find our way back to our better selves.

I am a 61-year-old man now, but in so many ways I am still that hopeful boy in Chicago with his hand over his heart facing the flag and reciting the pledge. But what is missing today is that childhood optimism.

I watch with disbelief as our nation becomes more hostile, bellicose and xenophobic, encouraged by President Trump’s example. I am shocked at how fragile our democracy is and how easily it can be subverted with a tweet. I admit I took the stability of our democracy for granted.

When I marched earlier this year with thousands of other Americans protesting the new administration, I realized that my revulsion at its policies did not originate from some new political epiphany or the latest protest du jour.

No, the revulsion came from that most apolitical part of my being — my very Americanism, the core of who I am and how I have conducted myself in the world all these years. It was as if everything I had been taught from first grade was not applicable anymore. As if my entire American belief system no longer mattered.

Truthfully, I hardly recognize my country anymore. I am still trying to get my head around the idea that we might no longer be a shining beacon of freedom for immigrants seeking safety from injustice.

Instead of being welcoming, we might require a religious and even a loyalty litmus test for entry to the American Dream. We might discard the Statue of Liberty as our model to the world. Instead, we might use the fear of “The Other,” as our guide. (I wonder what that statue might look like?)

At my age it is too late to change my fundamental core beliefs. Besides, why would I want to change? I have too much invested in my America. There is nowhere else I want to live out my years.

But is my country now abandoning me? Is America filing for divorce because of irreconcilable differences? Are my American values now seen as naïve, idealistic and antiquated?

We have always been a feisty, opinionated nation that does not shy away from confronting our warts: race relations, unjust wars, social inequality, or equal rights for women.

We have yet to solve our issues, of course, but we do make valiant attempts and, every now and then, we achieve progress. No matter how pitched the battle has been, I have always taken comfort in the fact that we would eventually find our back to each other.

Sadly, I now doubt that is possible.

Stephen J. Lyons is the author of four books of essays and journalism. His most recent book is Going Driftless: Life Lessons from the Heartland for Unraveling Times.

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